Who Knew
Fuega Fuega Prologue It’s funny how much meaning the word “home” has. You’d think it only has one meaning—a place to stay, a place where you live—but it means so much more than that. I thought the alley where I was born was my home, and then I thought Skull’s base was home. But when the place you call “home” keeps changing, you start to realize what the word really means. Humble Neighborhood I opened my eyes as I felt warmth against me. I looked around, taking in the inside of the little Twoleg nest and remembering what happened the night before. But Butch wasn’t in the nest anymore, so why did I feel a warm something on my fur? I blinked at the bright light spilling into the nest. Sunlight. I had never seen or felt actual sunlight before, having spent most of my life in dark alleyways and only coming out when the sky was dark or cloudy. I had been told that to go out into the sun was a bad thing, because you could get caught by who knows what. But now, feeling the comforting warmth that the sun brought, I couldn’t see what the fuss was about. Just then, a wrinkled face blocked out the sun at the entrance of the nest. “Rise and shine, Fuega kitty!” it barked in Butch’s voice. I turned from peaceful to scared out of my wits in a flash, my fur bristling and a yowl of shock building up in my throat. Butch was a dog! But he was a type of dog I had never seen before. He was rather fat, with stubby legs that somehow held him up. His head was large, wrinkled, and flat-shaped, like he had rammed his face into a wall at some point. His big brown eyes stared at me as he swiped his tongue over his sharp bottom teeth that stuck out when his mouth was closed. “Alpha’s mama says it’s rude to stare,” he said. “Um, sorry,” I mumbled, calming down. If Butch really wanted to eat me, he would have done that already, right? Still, I kept my guard up as I asked, “Who’s Alpha?” “Oh, that’s right!” exclaimed Butch. “You have to meet everyone!” With that, he scrambled out of the nest, calling back behind him, “Come on, Fuega kitty!” As fast as my small paws would carry me, I rushed out of the den and followed Butch’s stumpy tail. I needn’t have hurried, though; Butch’s stubby legs couldn’t get him to go very fast, either. We approached the back entrance to the big Twoleg nest. Butch sat down on the step in front of it and gave a short bark, clawing at the door with his front paw. I could see marks on the door from where he had previously scratched it. A few moments later, a tall female Twoleg with wavy brown fur on her head opened the door. She said something in that strange Twoleg language and patted Butch’s head. He lolled his tongue out in reply. Then her eyes—green like mine—fixed on me. I tried to make myself as small as possible. “Don’t be afraid, Fuega kitty,” said Butch. “Alpha is very nice and gives me lots of food.” I wasn’t in the mood to eat at the moment, or be eaten, which I was afraid might happen. The Twoleg crouched down on her back legs and made a few quiet noises that sounded a bit like the mews I had made when I was younger. She reached out with her front paw, and I panicked as I saw those long, fleshy claws come towards me, ready to grip my fur. Quickly, I ran behind the closest hiding place: Butch’s wide belly. I saw the corners of the Twoleg’s mouth droop, and she walked back inside the nest. “I told you not to be afraid, Fuega kitty,” growled Butch. “I’m not afraid!” I lied. “It’s just…I don’t like Twolegs.” “Twolegs?” Butch repeated, looking confused. “The creatures that walk on their back legs,” I explained. “You know, like, uh, Alpha, or whatever you call her.” “Oh, you mean humans!” he barked. “Alpha is a human. That’s what I call them, and the other dogs in the neighborhood call them that, too. And the cats call them housefolk.” “There are cats here?” I mewed. “Oh, yes, a bunch of them!” He wagged his stump of a tail in excitement. “That’s why my mama taught me cat speak! Some of them are mean and like to claw at my nose, but a lot of them are nice and friendly!” “Can I meet some of them?” I asked. I had lived with my own kind my whole life, and I wanted to get away from Butch’s nest and that Twoleg called Alpha that was inside. Perhaps the cats here were nicer than the ones in Skull’s group. “Sure!” Butch wobbled over to the fence that surrounded the grassy area, and I trotted right behind him. Just then, I heard voices behind us. Butch and I turned around to see Alpha walking towards us with an older female Twoleg behind her. Once again, I hid behind Butch. “Are they gonna hurt us?” “No, silly kitty. Alpha is just bringing her mama over to meet you.” Then his expression grew serious, and he whispered, “Alpha’s mama is very old. She forgets a lot of things very easily. Sometimes she’ll wake up in her bedroom upstairs and wonder where she is, or who Alpha and I are. She moved in with Alpha right after she adopted me, so that Alpha could take care of her. I was just a puppy. Alpha’s mama didn’t like me—she likes cats more and thinks all dogs are mean to cats.” I only understood half of what Butch was saying. What was “bedroom?” What was “upstairs?” What was “adopted?” Staring up at the short, frail Twoleg that was being led towards me, I couldn’t help but notice how she glanced around her, as if the very place she lived was unfamiliar to her. Every now and then she would look at Butch and flinch. “She wants to see you, Fuega kitty, not me.” He stepped to the side of me, putting me in clear view of the two Twolegs that now loomed over me. “Butch, what do I do?” I squeaked. “Act like a normal kitty. Stop shaking.” “I’m not shaking!” I retorted, then realized that I was, indeed, shaking. My fur was bristled, too, and my tiny claws unsheathed. I took a deep breath and relaxed my muscles, willing myself to not go running off to who knows where. That had been my choice when I had trained with Peach; it wasn’t going to be my choice this time. She’s more afraid of me than I am of her, I realized, looking up at Alpha’s mother again. Alpha was saying something to her, probably telling her to pet me. Then I did something I had been told never to do: I rolled on my back, exposing my soft belly. I looked up at the Twolegs, begging them with my eyes to get this over with so that I wouldn’t feel so vulnerable. But I wanted to do this for Alpha’s mother, because it was the first time I really understood someone other than myself. She saw this world as unfamiliar as I did. With a gentle nudge from Alpha, the old Twoleg shakily stooped down and reached out a gnarled hand towards me. I closed my eyes, waiting for some sort of pain that I was warned would happen if a dreaded Twoleg touched me. The pain never came. Instead, the most wonderful feeling of the Twoleg’s fingers scratching my belly made me purr in delight. “See?” Butch wagged his stub of a tail in happiness. “I told you that getting your belly scratched is the best thing ever.” “You never said that,” I purred, still enjoying the belly rub. “I didn’t?” he asked in confusion. “Oh—oops, maybe I should have.” After a while, Alpha led her mother away from me and back to their nest. They both waved goodbye as they disappeared through the backdoor. “C’mon, Fuega kitty, time to meet my other friends!” Butch was squeezing his large girth through a hole in the fence that surrounded the yard. “Who lives over there?” I asked his behind. He finally managed to get through, and he looked at me through the hole. “This is where Brody, Erin, and Surf live. Brody and Erin are Alpha’s friends from collage. They adopted Surf not too long ago. He’s a kitty, like you.” Curious to see this cat named Surf, I slipped through the hole in the fence and followed Butch to the back porch, which was much more elaborate than Alpha’s. There were a bunch of different plants growing in this yard, the biggest of which was a giant peach tree that towered over us. It reminded me of my mother, and I tried to ignore it. “I have to warn you, Fuega kitty,” barked Butch. “The peach tree is good for climbing—at least, for a cat, but not for me—and it is good for sleeping in the shade, but it is not good for eating. I made that mistake once, and my tummy hurt a lot.” “And that memory still scars me for life, Butch,” meowed a voice from the porch. A blue-gray tomcat was sunning himself on one of the steps, his blue eyes staring lazily back at us. He was older than me, but still pretty young, not even a year old yet. The way his lip curled like a Twoleg’s smile when he looked at me was quite handsome. “Surf kitty!” Butch bounded over to the steps and sprawled himself out next to the cat. “A nice morning, isn’t it?” “Very,” laughed Surf, giving his paw a lick. “The sun isn’t even at its highest point, and it’s perfect weather for sunning. Who’s this?” he added, his sparkling eyes looking back at me. I turned my head away, very shy, but not because I was scared of him. Like I said, he was very handsome. “That’s Fuega kitty!” barked Butch. “She’s staying with me and Alpha.” “Well, not really staying,” I mumbled. “I was just spending the night—” “Hey, is some kind of gathering going on here?” I turned to see another cat, a large tabby tom, sitting on the back fence. He hopped down and walked—no, limped toward us. One of his back legs was twisted at an odd angle, but it didn’t seem to faze him as he limped past me and sat down with a grunt in front of the steps. “Good morning, Husky kitty,” greeted Butch. “Morning, Butch, Surf,” meowed Husky, tipping his head to each of them. “And morning to you, pretty lady. Don’t know who you are, but you look nice.” “She’s Butch’s friend, Fuega,” Surf informed him. He looked at me again, softer this time. And what do you know, I looked away. How long is this going to go on? a little voice in my head asked. As long as he stays handsome, I thought back. “How’s your pack?” Butch asked Husky. “They’re doing alright,” mewed Husky, twitching his tail and looking a bit annoyed. “They went to a theme park or a zoo or someplace special to celebrate me not having to have my leg amputated after that damn car hit me. And I said to them, I says, If this is to celebrate me and my not-as-bad-as-it-damn-well-could-be leg, then why can’t I come? But, of course, my opinion never counts.” “What’s a theme park?” I asked. “And what’s a zoo? And what does amputated mean?” Butch and Surf looked at me like I was crazy. But Husky merely shook his head solemnly. “You must be an alley cat,” he murmured. “I was an alley cat once, a long time ago. It’s amazing how you could live in a place that is so overcrowded with humans—or Twolegs, I reckon you call them—and yet be so oblivious to their world. When you’re a pet, like me, Butch, and Surf, you get a lot smarter and less reckless. There’s no point in living out there, you know.” No point? I lived out there my whole life! My family was out there! But…could I really consider Skull and his empire as my family? Even if two of my blood relatives lived there? I had more family whose whereabouts I didn’t know—Ella, for example. And Peanut. No, living with my sister or my father was impossible. Ella was probably long dead by now, and Peanut…who knew where he was living as a housecat. He was probably happy without me—Surf and Husky seemed to enjoy the lifestyle. “Anyways, how are you two?” asked Husky, bringing me back to the conversation. “Brody and Erin are still eating breakfast,” explained Surf. “It’s so typical of them on a non-work day to just sleep in.” “Get used to it, kid,” chuckled Husky. “It’s typical of all humans. And what about you, Butch?” “Alpha’s mama was really happy to see Fuega.” Butch glanced at me with his big brown eyes and smiled. “Alpha’s mama loves kitties, you know, but she really loved Fuega.” If I were a Twoleg, I would have blushed a lot. “What’s this about a kitty-loving Alpha mama?” We all looked back at the fence to see yet another cat hop down from it. “Snowflake, my darling,” purred Husky. “How are you doing this fine morning?” “Better than usual,” she replied, ruffling her long white fur as she approached us. “I’m not doing very well in this weather, but Miss Heather put out her old dollhouse in her front yard for me to sleep in last night. She told me she was too old for it, can you believe it?” “Miss Heather sure is growing up fast,” whimpered Butch. Husky nodded in agreement. “Miss Heather is the sweetest little girl ever,” Surf explained to me. “She loves all of the animals here in the neighborhood and takes good care of them. Snowflake doesn’t live with any humans, but she hangs around our street, and Miss Heather and the other humans feed her.” “I was once a housecat,” meowed Snowflake. “But my housefolk left and never came back, so I’ve been living out on the streets ever since. I don’t want to be an alley cat, but I’m not ready for another family, either.” “Why do you guys live with Two—I mean, humans, anyway?” I asked. The three cats and one dog looked at each other, none of them looking like they knew the answer. “It’s a pretty simple answer, actually.” The voice came from a fourth cat who leapt over the fence and approached the porch. I had heard about cats like her before, with cream fur, dark faces, and blue eyes. She was a Siamese. “A lot of us used to be stray cats or dogs who were brought into shelters,” the Siamese meowed. “Or our mothers were taken off the streets and gave birth to us in the shelter, as was the case with me. The humans who took us to the shelters did so for our own good, and we realized that. Some animals don’t, and they try to fight the humans; those are the ones who meet a terrible fate. But those who do are given a much better life than those alley cats. We don’t have to hunt for our food. We don’t have to search for shelter. And we always have someone who loves us, even if they’re not our kind. And we love them back, and that’s why they take care of us. We form a bond with our housefolk and our Alphas. That’s why Snowflake here isn’t ready to find a new family; it’s hard to build that bond again.” “I…” I looked at each face staring at me. “I still don’t understand.” “You will eventually,” muttered Husky. “In any case, well said, Carly.” The other cats and Butch murmured their agreement. “I suppose that this one just got adopted, then, did she?” asked Carly, gesturing with her tail towards me. “I thought you said that your Alpha didn’t want to adopt a cat because she couldn’t afford it, Butch,” mewed Surf. “Alpha didn’t adopt Fuega kitty,” said Butch, shaking his head. “It was raining last night, and Fuega kitty came into my doghouse because she couldn’t find a place to sleep. Right, Fuega kitty?” I nodded. There was more to it than that, of course, but I figured that now was not the time to explain it. “Well, you’re welcome to stay around Hart Street as long as you want to, Fuega,” mewed Carly soothingly. “Thank you,” I murmured, remembering my manners. “Your housefolk are still gone on that road trip, Carly?” asked Husky. “Yeah, they are,” she replied, her eyes narrowing a bit. “They could have brought me along with the rest of the pets, too, you know. Just because I’m a purebred doesn’t mean I’m delicate.” “You can’t blame them, though,” pointed out Snowflake. “Not only are you an expensive purebred, you’re still intact.” “I know better than to come home with an unwanted litter of kits in my belly,” the Siamese retorted. “Besides, at this rate, they’re never going to breed or show me. They want me as a family pet, not a show cat or a cat to continue the lineage.” “Sometimes humans like to show their kids the miracle of reproduction,” meowed Surf. “They’re probably going to breed you once, sell the kits, and then spay you.” Carly snorted. “They could just turn on the TV and let their kids watch Animal Planet. Even the G-rated documentaries have mating and birth scenes. I’d rather not go through all the trouble of breeding. I just want to be included on these family trips, and if being spayed meant I could go, then I’ll walk through the clinic door myself.” Butch shivered. “Don’t say such things, Carly kitty. The clinic is a horrible place. The vets are so mean.” “But it would be so worth it,” hissed Carly. “In the show ring, I might be considered beautiful, but here on Hart Street, I’m practically a freak.” BOOM! The word “freak” was partially drowned out by the sound of thunder from the sky. None of us had noticed that the sun was now covered by dark clouds, casting a shadow over the Twolegplace that the other cats called Hart Street. “I should have known that this humidity would cause a thunderstorm,” muttered Husky. “We better get back to our homes, everyone. Our housefolk will be looking for us.” He, Snowflake, and Carly ran to the back fence and leapt over it, while Surf disappeared into the cat flap on the door to his house. “C’mon, Fuega kitty, we better get going.” Butch nudged me with his nose towards the hole in the fence. I slipped through and waited for Butch. He managed to get the front part of his body in, but his wide girth prevented him from going any further. “Do you need help, Butch?” I asked. “No, I’m fine,” he assured me. “I just need to go on a diet.” It has started to rain, and as I shook off my fur, thunder rolled through the sky again. I saw a flash of lightning in the distance. Finally, with all his might, Butch managed to squeeze through the gap in the fence. We rushed towards his doghouse and went inside as soon as the rain began to pour harder. “Are you alright, Fuega kitty?” he asked, panting a little. I nodded, shivering from the cold. Without thinking, I pressed myself against Butch, seeking warmth. He lay down and curled his body around me, making me feel more safe and secure than I had in a long time. We heard splashing and looked out of the doghouse to see someone sprinted through the rain toward us. A flash of lightning lit the figure up, and I saw it was Alpha. She was holding what looked like thin, white strips of bark with black markings over her head to shield her from the rain. She crouched outside of the doghouse and slipped in a bowl of some sort of cat food, like the ones the people at the pet store gave to Skull’s gang. But this food smelled different, and since Butch instantly began devouring it, I guessed that it was made for dogs and not cats. Alpha then put down some sort of meat, pushed it towards me, and ran back to her own house. I cautiously sniffed the meat. “What’s this?” Butch finished chewing, then gave the meat a quick sniff as well. “Chicken. Leftovers from last night’s dinner, to be exact. Try it, Fuega kitty, it’s really good.” I took a small bite out of it and instantly began eating it up hungrily. It was one of the best things I had ever eaten. After Butch and I had finished our food, he curled his body around me again to keep me warm, and we watched the rain pour outside. “Butch?” “Yep, Fuega kitty?” “What was that whole conversation about?” “Which one?” “Well, first of all, what was that thing that Carly’s housefolk were going on?” “A road trip? That’s when humans go traveling around to different places and then come home. I’m not sure why. Humans are weird sometimes.” “And what are purebreds?” Butch sat up. “That’s a little harder to explain. See, a long time ago, humans started controlling which wolves would breed with which wolves, and which wildcats would breed with which wildcats.” “What are wolves?” I asked. “They are wild dogs. But humans wanted them to live with them, so the wolves and wildcats could help them hunt. So because the humans controlled what their babies would look like, the wolves and wildcats turned into dogs and cats. And then they became different breeds of all shapes and sizes. A dog or cat that has only one breed in its blood is a purebred. But if two dogs or cats of different breeds have pups or kits together, then those pups or kits are mix-breeds. I’m a mix-breed, even though I’m mostly bulldog, and you look like a mix-breed, too.” “So…Carly has only Siamese in her blood?” “Yes. Purebred cats and dogs are getting rarer and rarer, so it’s hard for humans to have them as pets. There are these competitions called shows, where dogs and cats of the same breed compete to see which one looks the most like what that breed should look like.” “What’s the point of that?” “The human who owns the winning dog or cat gets money, which they use to take care of themselves and their pets.” “So is Carly a show cat?” Butch sighed. “Carly kitty has had a…complicated life.” I perked my ears up. “You can tell me about it. I like stories.” “It’s good you do, Fuega kitty,” chuckled Butch. “Okay, I’ll tell you the story.”